


A Change of Course

by SoulSong



Series: Initiate Lockdown [2]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Worm - Fandom, Worm verse, Wormverse
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Flashbacks, Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philadelphia, The Protectorate (Parahumans), Wildblow does it better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29591973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSong/pseuds/SoulSong
Summary: Italics indicates thoughts.Bold italics indicates flashbacks.Bold indicates emphasis
Relationships: OC marriage
Series: Initiate Lockdown [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085297
Kudos: 1





	1. A Nice, Safe Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [4eHeretic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/4eHeretic/gifts).
  * Inspired by [All the Time to Lose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828381) by [SoulSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSong/pseuds/SoulSong). 



> Welcome to Arc 2 of Initiate Lockdown!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2005, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up right where the last Arc left off

_I can do this._

I raise my hands up by my shoulders, palms flat and facing forward. “I’m here to join the Protectorate.”

The officers don’t have to move their heads for me to know they’re exchanging looks. Whether those looks are to ensure they all heard me or convey that they don’t believe me, I have no way of knowing. They’re too still and too calm to be panicking, but they haven’t made any move to lower their containment foam sprayers. .. _Maybe they’re waiting for an order? Or maybe they’re waiting for a hero to come downstairs._

There’s a shift in the air, a break in the tension as one of the officers gives an order.

“Stand down.”

All at once, three of the officers relax, lowering the nozzles of the sprayers towards the floor as they return to their normal postures. The three that had relaxed then simultaneously lift their sprayers over their shoulders, sliding them onto their backs. The last one keeps his sprayer aimed at me though. _I really hope that’s just protocol. It’d suck if he’s got an itchy trigger finger._

The officer that gave the order steps forward. “Put your hands behind your head, I’m going to check you for weapons. You try anything and my partner will fire.”

I nod, “Yes sir,” moving my hands behind my head and clasping them there. _Breathe, you’re fine. You specifically locked your gun and ammo in Kyle’s gun safe last night and you didn’t even see the safe this morning. You aren’t wearing your thigh holster so you don’t have your combat knife. And..wait..my knife wasn’t in the holster. I used Kyle’s stuff to resharpen and clean it last night. Did I put it in my boot before I left this morning? Please for the love of all things good and right_ **_please_ ** _tell me I didn’t put my knife in my boot._

There’s a few long, agonizing minutes as the officer checks me. I can feel him as he leans down low, squatting as he checks my lower legs and boots. There’s no pause or hesitation from the officer as he searches and stands back up. _No knife._ I quietly let out the breath I’d been holding, taking a few more quiet breaths to calm myself.

The officer comes around to stand in front of me. He nods “You can lower your arms, sir. Come with me.”

I nod to show I heard him and follow him as he leads me to a door on the left wall. Past the door is a hallway lined with doors. He opens one labeled ‘5’. Inside is a simple table that looks to be made of metal. It also has two chairs made of the same material as the table, one on the back wall and one near the door. An interview room. Or interrogation room, but given its proximity to the lobby they probably use this room to interview witnesses and potential employees. You don’t interrogate dangerous people near civilians. It's just not done.

“Take a seat in that chair over there and remove your Tinker tech. Leave it on the table.”

I do as the officer instructs. The chair isn’t cold like metal would be and it feels like there’s a bit of padding on the seat and backrest. _It might be a synthetic Tinker-designed material. That’d explain the contrast between appearance and feel._

Seeing my visor on the table, the officer nods “A Protectorate member will be down shortly.”

_And now they’ll have me wait. Someone will likely be watching the feed from the security cameras embedded in the walls to watch for signs of impatience, fear, anger, nervous ticks, anything that could tell them I came here to do anyone harm. Too bad for them, the military is very good at training people to focus and stay still. I’ve got no job and Diablo has food, water, and Kyle’s backyard. I’ve got nowhere else to be for the rest of the day and no reason to move an inch._

I am not kept waiting nearly as long as I’d expected to before a cape enters but- _Oh wow it’s_ **_him_ ** _._ I would’ve known who he was even if I hadn’t been staring at his banner just minutes ago in the lobby. **_Chevalier_ ** _._

He’s wearing silver-and-gold armor and carrying a file folder in one hand with his cannonblade on his back. “I’m Chevalier, leader of the Protectorate here. I’ve been told you want to join.” His voice is calm and polite, but authoritative.

 _Reminds me of my old CO._ “I do.”

He nods, opening up the folder as his helmet tips down to face it. “Anubis. Rogue and mercenary. You’ve been helping to catch villains and send them to the Birdcage for just over a decade.”

_All public knowledge if anyone bothers to look which means they looked up my Parahumans online page. They probably read the arrest reports too but all he’s said so far is something a nerdy thirteen-year-old could tell you._

Chevalier continues “Classified as a Mover 3.” He says, his helmet tilting up to face me.

I curb the urge to smile beneath my mask. _He’s trying to get a rise out of me, see what annoys me. The website actually rates me as a Mover 5. We both know this. I could correct him, but I don’t care enough._ So, I shrug instead “If you say so.”

He moves on, asking me about different villains I’ve helped to capture and kill.

_Yup, they pulled the arrest reports and even a few court cases too._

I make sure to leave out commentary like how easy or hard a job was or how I felt about the villains. No matter how disgusting, depraved, twisted, or sick they were, I need him to understand that I only killed the ones who had a kill order on them. I didn’t kill them because they were terrible human beings. I killed them because the government said they were too dangerous, too willing to hurt others, and too uncontrollable to let them live.

After 20 minutes of him testing me, Chevalier puts down the file and folds his arms over his chest. I can feel him staring at me past his helmet. “Alright Anubis, I have one last question for you, and it’s the most important one.”

 _Almost done._ I nod.

There’s a pause, the silence stretching on for what feels like an eternity. So long that I actually start to study the intricate designs on his armor, his words breaking my focus like a nutcracker.

“You’ve been a rogue for ten years now. Why do you want to join the Protectorate, and why now?”

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels good to have this ready earlier than I expected. Hope you all enjoy the latest installment of Initiate Lockdown :) Hell, even if there's no one reading this, I'm glad I wrote it. This format is helping me to crank out more chapters and not feel overwhelmed so I call that a win.


	2. Of Sound Body and Mind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2005, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

_ Breathe. You can do this. Well, if he could-  _ I open my mouth, but close it and chuckle, shaking my head a bit at that stupid thought.

“What’s so funny?”

I shake my head. “I was about to ask you if you could keep a secret. Then I realized,” I wave at his full suit of armor “of course you can.” I chuckle again, the sound a bit breathier this time, before picking up my visor. I stare at the clear, reflective surface of the glass that has helped me see so much.  _ Without these, I probably would’ve died years ago.  _ “I’ve had these longer than I’ve had powers.” I gently spin the glasses between my fingers, “They were made by Vision. One of those early Tinkers. They worked for the United States military. Looking back on it their specialty was probably sensory enhancements.” I hold out the visor so he can look at it.

He gently takes it from my hand and looks it over.

I fold my hands in front of me, my forearms resting on the table. “No one talks about Vision, but that’s just how they liked it. They didn’t do it for the glory. They did it so they could help save a few more lives.”  _ Which is true. I met Vision multiple times. Vision was a soldier tired of seeing people leave for battle and never come back. They just wanted more troops to walk themselves home.  _ “My wife wasn’t all that different.”

His helmet tilts in my direction but he doesn’t say anything.

“After I triggered I was content to be a rogue.” I take a deep, shaky breath.  _ I can do this. _ “My wife researched powers for the PRT. She died in an Endbringer attack.”

Chevalier remains as still as a statue and just as quiet.

_ It’s almost unnerving how quiet he’s being.  _ “She always wanted me to join the Protectorate and use my powers to help more people, but I wasn’t ready to join another war. The last time we talked about it, I promised her that I would at least consider it. After she died I could scarcely look at the PRT logo, let alone step in the building. As you can see,” I motion around the room a bit with my hand, “I’ve since gotten over that. So, if you’ll have me, I’d like to do some good.”

_ Were the fans this loud when I was alone in here? _

The small klink of the visor touching the metal table is deafening. “We’ll have to do the proper paperwork and examinations,” he says, angling his helmet towards me, “but I’d be glad to have you on my team.” He holds his hand out to me.

I take his hand in mine and shake it.  _ Maybe there is something to all that deity talk in the world after all. _

Chevalier hands me a clipboard ladened with numerous forms to fill out.

_ Or maybe there isn’t. _

He tells me to holler if I need anything right before he leaves to ‘check on something’.

I couldn’t begin to guess where he’s gone or what he’s gone to do. He probably had over two dozen things to do by noon before I got here.

When he returns, he takes the forms from me, reading through them before nodding, “If you’ll please follow me, you’ll need to undergo a physical and psychological evaluation before we can officially instate you in the Protectorate. You can choose to have one or both done by a personal physician or therapist or you can elect to have it done by our in-house doctors.”

I don’t have a personal doctor or therapist in the area. “I’m not actually from the area so I would appreciate it if I could see yours.”

He nods again, motioning for me to follow him. He leads me back to the lobby and into one of the elevators on the back wall of the lobby. We head up 3 floors and he leads me to an examination room.

The floors and walls are tile, the bed covered in wax paper. There’s a desk with a rolling swivel chair and a computer mounted into the wall over the desk. There’s even a computer attached to the bed. Maybe it takes bioscans of the patient on the table and relays them to the doctor. It would streamline exams. There’s also a few holographic anatomical diagrams on the walls and the back of the door displaying skeletal structure, cardiovascular system, and nervous system. There’s also a simple chair next to the examination bed.

“You’ll need to remove all extraneous gear for the physical. There are no cameras in here and all data will be stored under the name ‘Anubis’. The doctor will be here shortly.” he says before leaving, closing the door behind him.

_ No sense in not complying.  _ I take off my jacket, gloves, vest, mask, and visor. This leaves me in my t-shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots.

I lay my jacket and vest over the back of the chair, and my gloves, mask, and visor on the seat of the chair. I’m about to hop up on the bed when I remember that physicals include height and weight measurements. So, I kneel down, untying my boots and sliding them off one at a time. I’m halfway through removing my left boot when the door opens.

_ Intruder!  _ My spine straightens with a snap, my hand flying to my hip as I move to stand. _ Where is my gun?! _

The intruder stops short, his eyes wide in surprise for a moment before he closes the door behind him. He holds his hands up by his shoulders, his palms flat and facing me. His face is a little tense and he manages to push a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes “I’m sorry for startling you.”

_ Breathe. He’s wearing a lab coat and stethoscope. He’s probably the doctor _ . I exhale all the air in my lungs, letting my shoulders relax with them. I shake my head “No, you’re fine.” I finish untying my boot and put both boots under the chair with the rest of my stuff.

I clear my throat as I stand, pushing my own smile as I hold out my hand to the man in the lab coat.

The man shakes my hand, his smile reaching his eyes this time. He’s probably in his 60s or so, I’d say Eastern European or Middle Eastern heritage. He has greying hair, dark eyes, and round, thin frame glasses.

“I am Doctor Sohrab Ivanovski. I am one of the on-call doctors here. I am here to give you your mandatory entry physical. This will mean a complete physical including standard physical tests, blood tests, drug tests, prostate exam, and any necessary vaccinations. These tests are non-negotiable, unfortunately unless you have recent medical records from a personal doctor that I can look at.”

I lean back against the side of the exam bed and shrug “I’m up to date on all my shots as of January and I had a blood test while I was in Indianapolis last week. Some low-level villian stabbed me and they had to check for toxins so they ran it for all the other stuff while I was there. I have the print out if you need it.”

He nods “I do. That will save us some time. Shall we?”

Once we’ve done the last test, I put my gear back on and Dr. Ivanovski leads me to the psychologist’s office down the hall.

The door opens after just one knock to reveal a woman about my age. Maybe 5’10”, shoulder-length light brown hair, tan skin, and hazel eyes. Her smile is warm and comforting “Hello Sohrab, you must be Anubis. Chevalier told me you’d be dropping by. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable.”

I step past her into the office. The walls are painted a light green, the floor is wood, and the ceiling lights are covered in these lanterns, not blocking the light so much that they don’t keep the room bright but enough to make the room feel cozy. Her desk is in the back corner while the center of the room has a dark brown couch and three matching armchairs all around a half-circular wooden table. There appears to be either a safe or a minifridge behind her desk but I can’t tell from here.

I take a seat in one of the armchairs, the only one facing the door.

The doctors finish their conversation before he hands her my file and she closes the door. She turns and gives me something of a sad or sympathetic smile. “There are no cameras or recording devices in here. I’m bound by patient confidentiality so anything we say in here will be strictly between us even if you decide not to join the Protectorate. So please, relax, take off your mask and visor. It usually helps patients relax to not be in full uniform.” she says, taking a seat in the armchair across from me, shuffling the papers and getting comfortable.

_ Well, I’ve already done it with Dr. Ivanovski, and I intend to join if they’ll have me so I guess I probably should.  _ I remove my gloves and visor, sliding them into my pockets. I pull my mask down off my face and my hood off my head. I also unzip my jacket, clasping my hands in my lap.

“May I ask your name?”

_ I guess so.  _ I give her a half nod “Jason.”

She nods, her smile more welcoming now “Nice to meet you, Jason. I’m Doctor Sarah Zanardi, parahuman psychologist. Have you ever spoken with a psychologist or therapist before?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’ve uh, I’ve been seeing therapists since my discharge in ‘94.”

“Military. What branch?”

“Army Rangers.”

“How long were you in the military?”

“Twelve years, though I did have a few years of uh shore leave in there.”  _ It’s probably best that I just call all of them that and leave it as such. _

She nods, barely even glancing at her clipboard as she takes notes.

We run through my cyclic insomnia, my PTSD, my depression in the two years following Moscow, and the nightmares. After going over the illnesses and symptoms, I go over the medications I’ve been on over the years and the therapists I’ve seen or called.  _ It’s a good thing I’ve saved the contact information of each doctor. She’ll probably contact them later to ask about my sessions with them. None of them know I’m a cape but they did talk to me about my tours in the army and losing May and Rochelle. _

“I know this is a difficult subject to discuss as a parahuman,” she says, jotting down something in her files, “but I would like to talk about your trigger event.” She looks up at me with a shine to her eyes that walks the border between asking and hoping.

_ Shit. I..I mean it makes sense because how else would they know the sorts of events that result in certain powers but at the same time..I never considered that I would have to answer that question. I mean, a trigger event is an extremely personal and traumatizing event. To say a parahuman’s trigger event was the worst day of their life is the understatement of the century. It’s their own personal hell and their powers are the tramp stamp that reminds them of it every day for the rest of their lives. _


	3. Tramp Stamp From Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2005, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is easily my favorite chapter title

I sigh, shifting in my seat. “Alright, but you’re gonna want to get comfortable, ma’am. I’ve got two.”

Dr. Zanardi eyes widen a fraction but she nods, shifting in her seat so she is reclined a little more.

I reach into the collar of my shirt, pulling out my dog tags. I squeeze them in my fist. “The first time was March 3, 1984. I was on a mission. My squad was investigating a potential terrorist communication outpost.”

 **_It was hot and dry. Sand scratching at the skin of my face, my visor protecting my eyes from the harsh soil. Everyone in the squad has a visor protecting their eyes and a cloth mask protecting their mouths..just like me._ ** “We were infiltrating an enemy hideout when my dog, Tex, alerted us that she’d found several bombs.” **_A large dog in a kevlar vest is running towards me. Tex. She’s barking. Two barks, pause. One bark, pause. Repeat. Danger. Bomb._ **

She nods as she jots down notes on her clipboard. “Tex was your dog?”

“Boucheron and Bernese Mountain Dog mix.” _She was so big, capable of licking my face when she jumped on me. She had a big boxy head, large muscular body, and brown, black, and white medium-length hair._ “I trained her to be a bomb detection dog. I was the EOD specialist.” _There’s a scuff mark on the floor next to the leg. Did that happen when they put in the furniture or while arranging it?_

“So, she alerted you that there were bombs.”

_Focus._

“What happened next?”

 **_Gotta run. Gotta get out. Get everyone out. RUN!_ ** “They were in a back room, live and already counting down. I didn’t have time to disarm all of them, so we evacuated… Well..we tried to anyway.” **_The ground shakes with the ear-shattering boom. There’s a heat on my back and something stinging the back of my neck._ ** “They went off, taking a few support pillars with them.” **_The walls are crumbling down. The roof is collapsing. The few remaining support pillars groan under the strain of the collapsing ceiling._ ** “Next thing I knew..I was teleporting.” _I can still remember how strange it had felt - the temporary weightlessness, knowing I’d moved despite knowing I wasn’t_ **_that_ ** _fast - but I wasn’t afraid at all. In fact, I remember thanking god though I don’t remember what specifically I was thanking him for._ “I used it to get most of us out safely.”

She nods, still writing in her file. “So, your powers let you save your squad. If you can, I’d like you to tell me what you were thinking about at the time.”

 _Seriously? It was 21 years ago. My memory isn’t terrible but it’s not_ **_that_ ** _good._

She gives me what I assume is meant to be an encouraging smile “Please, try. The thoughts and emotions right before a trigger event are formative for both the individual and the power itself.”

 _I..guess I can give it a try._ “Umm..well..they were more than a team to me. They were my friends. I may not have been in command, but it was my job to disarm the bombs and..and I failed them. I couldn’t lose them.”

She nods slowly, quietly making a note on her clipboard. When she finishes she shoots me a small smile “Thank you. Can you tell me about the second time?”

 ** _Smoke, fire, blood. So much blood._** _Oh I don’t want to do this. Please I don’t want to do this. ..But I need this. I need to talk about this. I haven’t even told Kyle everything._ “My wife, daughter, and I were in Moscow for a powers research conference. My wife was a researcher for the PRT so I had our daughter while she talked with scientists and presented her data.” _Rochelle loved all the colorful charts._

“I..I left them alone. Rochelle was hungry but May’s boss needed her.” _I should never have left them._ “I left Rochelle with May as I went down three floors to the cafeteria.” _It smelled stale, like they hadn’t used the kitchen in months before opening it up for the conference._ “I was..I was just about to order when there was..well, I **thought** it was an earthquake. A big one. I had to hold onto the counter for balance.” _I’d been in earthquakes before but never anything that strong. If it hadn’t been so damn quiet before the shaking I would’ve thought we’d been bombed._ “Then, not a minute after the first one, there was a stronger shake. People fell over from that one. Then,” I swallow “then came the explosion.” I arch my back in a sort of stretch as I adjust how I’m sitting. It doesn’t help ease my discomfort at all. “I um..I had a small flashback to my trigger event there. When I..” _What’s a good word for this?_ “Came back to myself,” _yeah, that’ll work,_ “people were running for the exits. I ran upstairs. I had to find May and Rochelle.”

_When did I cut my thumb? Maybe it was that gangbanger with the knife in Indianapolis. Or maybe it was that druggie in Chicago._

_Dammit, focus!_ “I had to break down the door to get out of the stairwell and um there were two more explosions, one right after the other. I used the door frame for balance. ..There was fire **everywhere** , bodies, blood..” _Why can’t I get the smell of burning flesh out of my head?_ It hurts to swallow this time. _I need water. After. I’ll get water after I’m done._ “It wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before but..there was..something different about this. There were **heroes** there. People with superpowers.” _You had powers then too, dumbass. Fat lot of good any of you did._ I shake my head. “I..I ran up and down the isles..and then I found them. May was..” _Oh god I can still picture her like that_ . “She’d been impaled by some wood that’d been knocked out of place in one of the explosions.” _Moving on._ “I think I blacked out for a minute but..when I could see again I saw Rochelle not too far away..she was alive. I..I carried them both out of there. Saw Behemoth as I was leaving the building so.. **that** was..” _just another fucking shit to add onto an already horrible situation_ “something.”

_There’s a spot on the wood by the table..looks like more than a simple scuff mark. Maybe a patient flipped the table at one point? It’d explain the discoloration on that one part of the table._

_..What was I doing? Oh, right, Behemoth, running._ I clear my throat “I just..kept running until I found a hospital. I’m fairly certain I triggered somewhere in the attack because I was faster when I was leaving. I was even able to teleport in mid-air which I couldn’t do before. Umm when I woke up in the hospital a few days later, the uh staff told me Rochelle had vanished during a temporary power surge. She’s um still missing.”

She hasn’t said a single word. The only sound from her is her quiet breathing and the scratch of her pen. She nods slowly, looking up from her notes to give me a small, sympathetic smile. “Thank you, Jason. Would you like some water?”

I shake my head. “No, but thank you, doctor.” _You idiot you’re dehydrated. ..Too late now, I’ll get water later._

She clips her pen to the clipboard, closing the folder. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about?”

“No. I uh, I’ve never talked about my trigger events to be honest so I um. I’m kind of, I don’t know..tired?” _Maybe drained would be a better word.._

She holds up her hand a little over her clipboard in a sort of placating gesture “I understand. Trigger events are difficult enough as it is. Talking about it is even worse. You have held this inside of you for upwards of 20 years. It is understandable that this would be draining. Feel free to talk to me should you ever need an ear.” she says, holding out her card.

 _Yeah, draining was the word._ I nod, accepting the card “Thank you.” I say as I reassemble my uniform.

Once I’m ready, she leads me to a waiting room.

_And now I wait. I hate this part. Nothing to do but think. Pacing would show impatience instead of nerves so I can’t do that, can’t bounce my leg as that’s childish, so…guess I’ll just study my hands._

Chevalier enters the waiting room maybe fifteen minutes later, no file in hand.

I’m on my feet and standing at..well, **almost** at attention in less than 5 seconds, but I manage to stop myself from saluting. _Old habits die hard I guess_.

“Well, both doctors have cleared you and your background check is clean.” He holds out his hand to me “Welcome to the Philadelphia Protectorate.”

 _Holy shit._ I shake his outstretched hand, trying not to grin like an idiot under my mask. _I did it, May. I hope you’re proud and..I’m sorry it took so long._


	4. Form and Function

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2005, New York, New York

I have to crane my neck to see the tops of the skyscrapers that surround me.  _ So this is New York? I actually pictured it busier than this.  _ I’ve come to New York City to meet the PRT head of Image (public perception), Mr. Glenn Chambers. I need to meet with him to discuss my costume,  how the PRT wants me to handle interviews, how they want me to present myself when in public, and how to fight without scaring people.  _ As much as I hate that heroes are celebrities, I’m not overly bothered by all the rules and pomp and circumstance that come with it. Those are a part of being a soldier. What I’m not looking forward to are the interviews, the pictures, and the scrutiny of the press. So, needless to say I have not been looking forward to this meeting. _

The local Protectorate Headquarters is architecturally opposite of the one back in Philadelphia. Where the latter is shaped like a bent pyramid and primarily glass, the former is primarily steel and shaped like a rocket.  _ I feel like an ant milling among thousands of other ants at people’s feet. Do locals feel like this too? _

The lobby has shining banners of the local Protectorate heroes with a gigantic one of Legend taking up the whole back wall.  _ They clearly take a lot of pride in having him as their local branch leader. _

I step into the elevator and one floor up Legend steps on.  _ Holy shit! _

He presses the button for the floor he needs, glances at me, and then does a double-take. “Wait..I know you, don’t I?”

_ Yeah, last we met I was sweaty, covered in blood, and carrying my dead wife and unconscious child. For the love of all things good and holy do  _ **_not_ ** _ say that. _ I swallow “Uh yes, sir. Moscow, 1995, Behemoth attack.”

He nods, an ‘ah-ha’ look crossing his features “Right. I gave you directions to the hospital.” He looks to the elevator controls, then back to me “So, you’re here to meet with Glenn?”

I nod stifly “Yes, sir. I’m,”  _ can I even tell him? He is one of the leaders of the Protectorate and he already knows I’m going to see Glenn Chambers. _ “I just joined the Philadelphia branch.”

He nods with a smile “Good, Chevalier could use the help. I’ll keep an eye out for your intuction ceremony.” The doors open for his floor and he offers his hand.

I shake it.

“Glad to have you on board.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He nods, stepping off the elevator and striding down the hallway.

_ For a guy who can outpace a fighter jet and shoot lasers with better accuracy than tracer missiles..he’s actually a pretty cool guy. No wonder people love him.  _ The doors eventually open on my floor and I wander down the hall for a bit until I find the door labeled ‘Public Relations’. I open it and step into a swarm of - mostly - college students running around like startled chickens in a pen.

“Ah! You must be Anubis!”

I turn my head and stamp down the urge to double-take. The man in front of me is decidedly obese, and his clothes do nothing to hide it. They’re unflatteringly tight on him, only serving to draw attention to his physique. His hair is gelled up in a sort of faux-hawk, which honestly looks unnatural on him given that he is not in his teens or 20s. His rectangular framed glasses are thin and make him look like he’s squinting.  _ Not what I was expecting from the guy in charge of appearances. _

“Yes sir.” I reply, somewhat cautiously.

The man beams, making his eyes crinkle so much that I can’t even tell what color they are, as he holds out his hand to me.

I shake it as he introduces himself, shaking my whole arm.

“Glenn Chambers, head of Public Image. Thank you  **so** much for coming. Do you need anything? Water? A snack?”

_ He’s certainly..animated.  _ I shake my head “No sir.”

He nods “Shall we begin then?”

I finally manage to get my mouth working enough to string something longer than two words “Uh, yeah, sure. What’s first?”

He leads me to a desk in the middle of the room. “Someone will get your measurements later, I want to start with the big picture.” He says, holding his hands up by his head in an animated sort of gesture for ‘big’ as he sits down behind the desk.

I take the seat across from him, not entirely convinced I want him to design the clothes I’ll be wearing.

He clears his throat “Let’s start with your power and, by extension, your purpose on the team.”

_ I never considered this but I guess if you consider one’s powers to be like a trained skill then it stands to reason that they’re skills/powers would determine if they are a frontline combatant whose picture is plastered on the front page of every newspaper a or logistical supporter who never gets photographed in action. _

“According to the results of the testing from last week, you are tentatively considered a Mover  **6** , Trump Null. Your Trump power is shutting  **down** powers right?”

_I’d say I don’t want to be the former, but I think that’s only because I’ve never been that person before. Who knows? Maybe I would handle the position well._ _Right, he asked a question._ “Sir, so long as they are within my line of sight, any one cape I choose will become the equivalent of a normal civilian.”

His grin somehow manages to get bigger as he all but coos “Ooo.  **That** , combined with your teleportation makes you an ideal rapid responder. Ohh, this is an amazing opportunity. A lot of Movers have a Brute, Blaster, Shaker, or Tinker rating with it. They’re better known for the damage they can inflict, but your Trump rating makes you more subtle. Philadelphia’s current Movers are..” he pauses, probably thinking through the current roster and power ratings - which shouldn’t take long since there’s only 4 of them, “Blue Jay and Uma, both with Blaster and Shaker ratings. You’ll be something of a harken back to Pursuit who was a Mover Thinker.”

_ I don’t know much about Pursuit, just that she has a banner in the Philadelphia PHQ lobby in muted color - indicating she is dead. Maybe she died in that big incident last year? _

“This combination means you’ll most likely be the second to arrive on the scene after the person to report the crime, making you a symbol of help, assistance, someone to be counted on. Do you think you could be sociable and open with the public?”

“You mean like talking to people when I save them?”

He shakes his head “No like signing autographs, answering questions, taking pictures, that sort of thing. As the primary source of backup you will probably be viewed as someone dependable, someone you can call whenever you need help. Some people will want to feel close to you to confirm or solidify this image in their mind.”

_ Great. So they’re gonna, what? Parade me around to events and stuff? I sure hope not. _

Glenn leans forward onto his desk, his hands clasped together.

_ I feel like I’m being examined. _ The way his eyes seem solely focused on me as a whole behind those glasses reminds me of how a critic may examine a piece of art in a museum.

“Let’s discuss your old costume.” He begins casually, though I can hear a small hint of distaste in his voice, his gaze never wavering. “It is certainly  **practical** , but it looks too much like a vigilante for a proper hero.”

_ Yeah that makes sense. The thick dark jacket, the old combat boots, the cloth mask..none of that is anything like the bodysuits, medieval armor, or capes the professionals wear. _

He hums in thought, his eyes squinting even more.

_ Are his eyes even still open? _

“You’re ex-military right?”

I nod once “Army. Twelve years.”

His mouth curves up into a borderline conspiratorial smile. “ **Excellent** . I’m thinking of bringing some of that into your new costume.”

_ That could be good.  _

“Let’s see..I’m thinking green. Dark green. And maybe a neutral color to go with it. Or we start with a neutral base like a brown.”

I nod “Army uniforms use a lot of shades of dull greens and browns. They’ll sometimes include blues, whites, grays, and blacks too. I never had a problem with the uniform during my tours so I wouldn’t mind wearing those colors again.”

“And how would you feel about the inclusion of a brighter color like red or yellow?”

_ That’s not happening _ . “I’ve never really been a fan of yellow and red just reminds me of blood and I’ve seen more than enough of that in my lifetime, so I would thank you not to include either.”  _ Should probably provide another reason, something less emotional. _ “Besides, my strategy has always involved being stealthy in my initial approach in a potentially hostile situation. I can’t be stealthy in bright colors.”

_ Is it hot in here? Well, I am technically wearing three layers. But..  _ I glance around at the young adults still running around the office like lab rats after a specific piece of cheese.  _ I should be fine to take off my vest.  _ “Would it be alright if I took off my vest?”

He waves his hand toward me “By all means.” he says, jotting down a few things on a notepad.

I unzip my jacket, sliding it off before undoing the velcro on my kevlar and sliding that over my head. I’m about to put my jacket back on when Glenn speaks up again.

“Now, you strike me as a function over form sort of guy, but could I talk you into something form fitting, specifically a bodysuit?”

I can feel my eyebrows climbing up to voice their skepticism. “A bodysuit? Really?”

He nods “Yes. And I am only suggesting it because you are one of the few cases in which your physique would be  **complemented** by a bodysuit. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen new heroes come in here wanting a bodysuit who really shouldn’t. Plus, a bodysuit would provide a good starting point for the costume, and have plenty of space for adding armor on top.”

_ It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard. I  _ **_might_ ** _ put up to it. I should probably give him some sort of answer. _ I slide on my jacket, leaving it unzipped as I shrug “I..guess I could try it. Armor is definitely a must but so long as the suit doesn’t restrict my range of motion and actually protects me I think I’m fairly flexible on the design details.”

Glenn makes a note of it “So, we’re looking at a bodysuit overlaid with armor colored in some shade of green and a neutral color. And we’ll want to design the whole thing to invoke a sense of the armed forces.” He looks up at me “White and black are very common but I think either a brown or gray would better suit the military motiff. Do you have a preference for any of those?”

_ What was it May used to say? Right, browns tend to be just close enough to my hair color without matching that it doesn’t look that great on me unless it’s  _ **_very_ ** _ dark. I might as well go with the color that doesn’t clash and may eventually match my hair.  _ “Gray. Brown tends to look weird on me unless it’s super dark.”

Glenn nods, making a note “Alright. So we’ll go with gray. What about..mobility versus armor? Some Movers forgo heavy armor for the sake of having full range of motion and not weighing themselves down. Any preferences there?”

_ Well, my power is teleporting so I don’t have to worry about running, jumping, or climbing. But, I am trained in close combat so.. _ “Well, in the past I’ve worn kevlar to avoid bullets and layers to help against knives, though I’m usually pretty good about getting both weapons away from criminals. I’m more concerned about having full range of motion and protection for unarmed combat.”

He nods “So, since your power shuts off powers, that lets you fight people on even terms. You’ll need a bulletproof vest, a faceguard, a cup, and impact absorbing materials. Helmet?”

I shrug “Haven’t worn one since my discharge. I’ll leave that to you.”

“Alright then. Maybe a camouflage pattern? It could be on the bodysuit so it doesn’t overtake the costume but still helps to remind people of the army.”

“I’d be fine with that.”

“Good. That means we’re about..halfway done.”

_ Only half way? Shoot me now. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this late, everyone, I got busy yesterday. As always comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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